“Campbell, let go of Lady Laurel,” King Robert ordered. Brodie narrowed his eyes but released Laurel, only to entwine their fingers together.
“Lady Campbell,” Brodie corrected.
“That’s to be determined,” Robert snapped.
“There is naught to determine, Your Majesty. As least not now. Mayhap ten hours ago,” Laurel stated as she released Brodie’s hand. She moved swiftly to the spot where the pillows and her folded chemise still laid. She picked up the undergown and shook it out. “You can see from the creases that this has been folded and crushed beneath our weight.” Laurel didn’t flinch as she confessed that they’d coupled before the fireplace. “You can also see it’s dried. Neither of us could have done this before you returned. It happened well before you barged in. Your Majesty,” Laurel added the honorific as an afterthought. She walked back to Brodie’s side but thrust her chemise at King Robert, even shaking it when he didn’t immediately accept.
“Campbell and Ross guards witnessed the handfast,” Brodie said.
“Aye. When no one could find Lady Lau—Lady Campbell—” King Robert glared at Brodie. “—Montgomery thought she might have gone for an early morning ride. The Ross guards said she was last seen with you. Her husband.”
Laurel seethed as she looked at her brother. “You knew before you entered that we handfasted. You led the king here with a contingent of men to humiliate me, to punish me. You could have come by yourself. You could have knocked and been admitted. Bully for you. You solved the great mystery of where I went. You also ran to tattle like a wean.” Laurel stepped back to be behind Brodie’s shoulder. “Do not think for a moment that I fear you, Montgomery. I’m making sure you are out of reach, lest I claw your eyes out and spit in their sockets.”
“She’s your wife now.” Monty pointed at Brodie. “You said you would tame her.”
“I’ve discovered I prefer my wife as a hellion. Makes me confident my clan won’t fall to ruin when I must ride out.”
“She has your bollocks in her fist. She’d likely drag you into battle by them,” Monty sneered.
“If it means she’s touching them,” Brodie grinned and winked.
“Enough,” King Robert barked. “You did not have my permission to handfast, Laird Campbell.”
“Neither did you deny me the right to. Whether we handfasted or merely consummated the betrothal, we are married.”
“The church wasn’t done reading the banns,” Robert pointed out.
“I can name several couples who weren’t made to wait for them to be read even once,” Laurel mused. “Something aboot you having the right to decide without Rome.” Laurel threw down a dangerous gambit. Pope Clement V excommunicated King Robert early in the monarch’s fight for the throne. They remained at odds, but Robert used it as an excuse to allow more than one lady-in-waiting to marry with haste. Laurel banked on the reminder being enough to goad the king into relenting.
“Lady Campbell.” King Robert gazed at Laurel, something akin to respect in his tone and his gaze. “You are a formidable woman. I praise the saints that the Campbells are ever loyal. I would not want to run afoul of you.” Neither Laurel nor Brodie missed the subtle reminder that the Campbells served the king and not the other way around.
“We depart for Kilchurn in two days,” Brodie announced, wrapping his arm around Laurel’s waist once more. “We will be sure to say our farewells.”
“What aboot the bride price?”
“Montgomery, inform your father that the bride price was paid the moment he withheld an appropriate dowry,” King Robert snapped. “What he saves is his payment.”
“But—”
“Ross, pipe down and don’t sound like the wean your sister accused you of being.” King Robert didn’t wait for a response before he turned to the door. “You’re leaving, too.”
Monty cast a withering glare at the couple, but he was forced to follow the king’s order. King Robert, Monty, and two royal guards left Brodie’s chamber. The couple stared at the closed door for a long moment before they fell into one another’s arms.
“That went far better than I expected,” Laurel confessed. “I regret speaking out of turn, Brodie. I should have remained quiet. You should have been the only one to speak.”
“And miss you calling Monty a bairn?” Brodie shook his head with a grin.
“A wean. Bairns don’t have tantrums,” Laurel corrected.
“Laurel, I’m proud that you stood up for us. It means you want our marriage—will defend our marriage—just like I do. You’re intelligent and beautiful, a formidable combination. Men may underestimate you because of your beauty, but once they realize your intelligence, just like the king said, they will not want to run afoul of you. That’s why I’m proud of you.”
“No one has ever told me they’re proud of me. Not when I lived among my clan, and certainly never here. Granted, the latter was for good reason.”
“You may not be what every mon envisions as the perfect bride, but I am grateful for that. It means I am the lucky mon to call you wife. You are the perfect wife for me.” Brodie pulled the laces loose from Laurel’s gown. He stood back as she inched the fabric down her arms, then her ribs and hips until it pooled on the floor. He knew she’d purposely gone tantalizingly slow. But seeing her bare form in front of him left him with no patience. He tore his clothes off before lifting Laurel and carrying her to the bed. He laid her down, and she hurried to pull back the covers. They’d explored one another throughout the night, discovering sensitive and erotic places on each other’s bodies. The bunch and pull of Brodie’s muscular frame fascinated Laurel, who was previously unaware of the extent to which their bodies differed. Brodie reveled in Laurel’s responsiveness to his touch, and how her hands roamed over his body.
Laurel reached between them, braver than she had been early on, grasping Brodie’s length. The night before, she’d stroked as he’d shown her before his eyes rolled back, and he’d had to grip her wrist to pry her hand away. As they laid together on the bed, once more bringing him to the brink, Brodie captured both wrists in one hand and raised her arms over her head as he lowered his mouth to her breast, swirling his tongue over her nipple. His other hand lazily meandered to the thatch of curls at the apex of her legs. Laurel writhed in anticipation as his roving fingers made the hair on her arms rise. She splayed her legs wide as Brodie’s questing digits finally eased into her sheath. With each moan, they plunged into her, stroking and probing as she labored to breathe.
“I want to touch you, too,” Laurel whispered. Brodie grinned at her with a wink before he shook his head.
